Comfort
by TheChronicLiar
Summary: From a prompt on tumblr: Jack has recently lost his sister and is comforted by a stranger.


From a prompt on Tumblr

 **Warnings:** Mentions of canon death.

Comfort

Funerals were never something Pitch enjoyed. He avoided them whenever possible. He would have avoided this one as well, but when his daughter pleaded with him to go, he had no choice but to adorn all black attire and drive her to the wake.

The ceremony itself was beautiful for this young girl. His daughter cried silently next to him, telling him about Emma, whom was a friend from school that had drowned while ice skating with her brother. Pitch kept his arm securely around her as the ceremony preceded to the lowering of the casket. All the while, she told him how Emma and her brother had lost their mother a few years back to tuberculosis, leaving _Jack_ to care for her.

Seraphina sang praises about this young man, even pointing him out during the burial. The boy couldn't be more than twenty. His face was dry and solemnly as he stared at his sister's grave, but Pitch could see the red of his eyes and puffiness of crying for hours at a time. Pitch's face was the same when his wife had passed.

Unfortunately, Seraphina wanted to join the after services. It felt like there was even more people there than at either the wake or funeral. That could be because there was. It seemed that Emma had a large group of friends. Kids littered the place and Seraphina joined the group as quickly as she spotted them.

Looking around the room, he saw a few people he knew, but felt no need to talk to them about a kid he barely knew. His eyes locked on a now familiar mop of white hair in the midst of a group. He looked to be laughing now, far happier than he was earlier. It was good the boy had comfort in times like these.

He signaled to his daughter that he'd be outside before taking one of the drinks and stepping out onto the back balcony of the funeral home. There were a few people straggling around outside, but no one had yet to join him out on the balcony, which was probably because of the snow that covered everything, but Pitch figured it as a blessing. He already felt emotionally drained. The girl died at barely thirteen. He took a sip of his lemonade and silently wished that it was something stronger.

The doors to the balcony opened with a soft squeak before slamming shut, followed by a string of curses. Pushing himself off the railing, Pitch looked back to see the girl's brother sitting on the ground with his hands tugging at his hair as he tears streamed down his face.

"Stop crying, just stop," he shuttered out with clinched shut eyes, as if doing that would stop the tears. It won't.

Pitch wasn't that great at comforting someone. Hugging wasn't an option. That was a lawsuit. "If you want to stop crying," he started, Jack's head shot up and stared at Pitch with wide blue eyes. The surprise of the young man looking up was almost enough to keep Pitch silent. "You may want to squeeze around the bridge of your nose instead." Case in point. That wasn't exactly something you should say to the grieving.

But to his ever growing surprise, Jack did just that. He squeezed at his nose and after a bit, his tears had dried up. "Thanks," he croaked out, flushing in embarrassment at the state of his voice.

Against his better judgement, Pitch held out his cup and Jack barely hesitated taking the lemonade and downing it. "Better?"

Jack nodded, handing back the empty cup. His legs slowly fell to the snow as he relaxed against the wall. "So, are you Seraphina's brother or something?" Apparently the look Pitch gave him made him have to clarify himself. "I saw you with her earlier. At first I thought you were some type of funeral crasher-"

"Funeral crasher?" Pitch monotone.

At least the young man had the decency to sheepish. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Pitch snorted as he stared down into his empty cup. "And as to your question, I'm her father."

Rough coughing came from the young man. Pitch quickly closed the distance between them and kneeled beside Jack, patting his back to help with whatever he choked on. "Are you alright?"

Jack nodded, still coughing like he was trying to hack up a lung. "Just," he coughed, "surprised."

Surprised? Pitch didn't bother questioning the strangeness of the young man, but instead found himself rubbing a calming hand up and down Jack's back long after the coughing had stopped.

"So, you're really her dad?"

Pitch's hand stilled before retreating back. "I am."

"God, are you like a vampire or something?" Jack grumbled.

"Vampire?" Pitch asked, taken aback.

"Yeah! You look too young to have a teen daughter." He started talking with his hands, look up at Pitch with his wide blue eyes.

The death of his sister must be hitting him hard. "How old do you think I am?" he asked as he risked wet trousers to sit down in the snow next to the boy.

"Three hundred."

Pitch gave him an unimpressed look.

"I don't know, my age?"

Pitch snorted. "I'm not twenty."

Jack snorted back. "Well neither am I."

"…" Pitch raised a brow, not really believing Jack.

"…I'm twenty-three, BIG difference. I can drink," he said as if this made all the difference in the world.

"Thirty."

"Noooooo, you're old," Jack whined, though that smile broke through.

"Brat."

"Old man."

"Whippersnapper."

"You just proved my point, no one but an old bat would say that."

"I feel insulted."

"You should," Jack cracked a smile as he stifled a laugh. "If it makes you feel any better, you're the hottest old guy I know." He didn't dare look at Pitch as he said this, his cheeks burned from more than the cold.

Pitch coughed, feeling his own cheeks heat up. "It does," he replied weakly. He was really not cut out for comforting, somehow it ended up flirting.

The balcony door opened up to his daughter's head poking through. "Hey, dad, have you seen-Jack! I've been look all over for you," she stepped out onto the balcony and over to Jack. "Tooth is looking for you."

"Oh, ah," Jack's eyes darted between Seraphina and Pitch. He licked his lips with one last look at Pitch. "I guess I should go see what she wants." He hopped up onto his feet, nearly slipping back on his ass before prancing back into the building.

"Bye," Pitch muttered. He was surprised to see Jack's head poke back out with a wide smile.

"See you around, old man!"

Pitch huffed out a laugh and smiled at the other as he left yet again. Looking up at his daughter, he could see her own knowing smile. "What?"

"Nothing," she sang, walking toward the door as well.

"It wasn't anything," Pitch started, knowing where her mind was going. He stood up and brushed the snow off his pants. They were indeed wet.

"I'm sure," she agreed too easily.

Honestly, nothing happened. It's not like they went out on a date three weeks later or anything.


End file.
